


Meet the Family

by MadJJ



Series: SanSan Secret Santa [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Background Arya Stark/Gendry Waters - Freeform, Background Bran Stark/Jojen Reed (sorta), Background Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling - Freeform, Brief mention of Petyr being a creep, Christmas, Everybody Lives, F/M, Modern AU, Mostly pure fluff, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Past Sansa Stark/Harrold Hardyng - Freeform, SanSan Secret Santa, SanSan Secret Santa 2019, Sevenmas, snow fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21907441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadJJ/pseuds/MadJJ
Summary: Sandor has been dating Sansa for six months when she asks him to visit her relatives with her for Sevenmas, back in Winterfell. Sandor accepts but is dreading that meeting her family will doom their relationship when they tell her to leave him.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane & Starks, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Series: SanSan Secret Santa [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578721
Comments: 59
Kudos: 136





	1. The Invitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mademoiselle_k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mademoiselle_k/gifts).



> This is the SanSan Secret Santa gift for @mllekaren on tumblr!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy what I did with your prompt:
> 
> Starkling, holiday, snow fight, innuendo

"So," Sansa had been tiptoeing around something for days now, and every time she opened her mouth, Sandor expected her to tell him some disastrous news, like that she wanted to break up with him. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

He knew it. Sandor braced himself all the while trying to look as relaxed as he could. They were both cuddling on the sofa in his living room; if he so much as tensed a muscle, she would feel it.

 _At least I can hope she wouldn't break up with me while half-sprawled over me_ , he thought.

"Sevenmas is coming up soon," Sansa began, avoiding his eyes.

"Yes?"

Sandor did not care for the holiday at all; there never was a reason for him to be happy about the celebrations growing up, and he had a rather cynical view on the whole spending frenzy most people got into when the 24th December was around the corner.

"My family... We all go back home for Sevenmas. Since we all moved out of Winterfell and we barely go in the North anymore..."

Sansa came from a wealthy and noble family. In this day and age, it was strange to still see families of old persist, especially since the titles held little to no meaning nowadays. There was a sort of mystic around them - one of the many reasons Sandor hadn't dared to approach Sansa at first.

The Star family could be traced as far back as the First Men, some said. Unless it was to the First Targaryens, Sandor wasn't too sure. He had deliberately tried to ignore Sansa's charged family history once they had started dating. What one of her ancestor had done eons ago had no impact on her as a person, and he did not want it to influence how he saw her.

Sansa, exactly for that reason, avoided speaking too much of her family, but she loved them dearly and never mentioned them without a fond expression. They were simple people apparently, keeping the ancestral family home as a tourist attraction and the heart of a still bustling city.

"Are you asking me if I'm fine with you leaving for Sevenmas? Of course I am! I don't want you to miss out on your chance to see them all again just for my sake!" he laughed at the ridiculous thought.

He wasn't too full of himself that he'd think she'd rather stay with her boyfriend, who she had only been dating for six months, rather than with her family.

"I don't mind if I stay alone for Sevenmas, don't worry."

"Oh, no! No no no, that's not what I meant!"

She sat back to look at him in the eyes, slightly panicked. Then, her shyness came back, she blushed and she looked away again.

By now, Sandor knew it wasn’t about his scars, but he wondered what was so embarrassing that she wouldn’t want to look straight at him.

“It’s… I wondered if, maybe… You’d like to come with me?”

That, he did not expect.

“Don’t you think it’s too soon to introduce me to your family? You should go without me.”

She seemed so disappointed Sandor regretted his words almost instantaneously.

“Are… Are you sure?” she pressed in a gentle whisper. “They’re all impatient to meet you, and you wouldn’t need to stay the whole week -”

“You’ve told them about me?”

He was honestly surprised. He wasn’t exactly the kind of man one would want to bring back to introduce to parents.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Sansa blinked owlishly at him.

His resolve was dissolving by the second. Between her pleading tone and her bright blue eyes, he didn’t have any weapon to parry with.

“I… Maybe I could drop by -”

“Oh thank you!” she exclaimed before throwing her arms around his neck.

Her happiness made him smile despite what he had just agreed to. Sansa was the lowest maintenance girl he had ever met; he only had to agree to a date with her to make her happy, as if his presence alone was enough.

And she made him happy too. What else could he do but agree, even if it was to a week spent in the freezing blizzards of the North, miles and miles away from the secluded comfort of his apartment?


	2. The Arrival

The Stark Family reunion lasted several days, starting the week-end before Sevenmas and ending the week-end after it. They were at the airport on the 20th, dragging their luggage behind them, Sansa with a light step and Sandor with heavy feet.

He hated big open spaces like the King’s Landing airport; there were so many people in such a short span of time that stared at his face and then at Sansa, wondering what she was doing with him. He was mostly used to it and managed well ignoring them, but not right now. Not today. Not when he was thinking about what her family would tell her once they met him. Whatever miracle had made her turn a blind eye to all his faults, he knew her parents and numerous siblings would try to make her realize her mistake.

He gripped the handle of the luggage in his right hand a little tighter. That one was loaded with gifts – bribes – that he had bought after hearing Sansa describe everyone they would meet. There were a lot of people. It was a very large luggage.

When she glanced back to smile at him, he repressed his frown and gave her a hesitant quirk of lips back. They were about to spend several hours in the plane. Last moments of respite before they were thrown into whatever hellish dimension the family reunion would be. He would enjoy every last minute of it. Well, if the teething baby two seats behind them stopped crying for five minutes.

* * *

Sandor was nervous. Not just about meeting his girlfriend’s family, but also because the trip had been a nightmare. From the crying baby, to the very concerned flight attendant who seemed convinced he was a human trafficker and that Sansa needed help – which she had been implying with very little subtlety – to the idiot who had smoked in the toilets and started an alarm throughout the whole plane, everything had put him in his worst disposition before they landed.

“You’ll see, everything will be fine once we’re home,” Sansa told him with one of her concerned smiles.

She was so worried about him liking her family, it hadn’t crossed her mind that he was more preoccupied with the opposite.

Sandor had hoped they would still get the ride back to Winterfell to have some time alone, but Sansa had explained they had a whole process.

“Everyone’s flights arrive on the same day, so we just stay in the airport until the last one of us arrives. We’re lucky, we’re the last to arrive since we’re the farthest away from Winterfell! Well, aside from Arya, but since flights from Braavos are harder to coordinate with the rest of us she already arrived the day before.”

Lucky them, they’d have an army of Starks waiting for them. Just as anticipated, they were there.

Sandor just didn’t expect… That.

Sansa had described them sure. He knew she had a sister, four brothers and a cousin that was just like them since he had been adopted after his parents had passed away when he was very young. That was a lot of siblings, yet he hadn’t imagined the rambunctious pack of them waving their signs at the other end of the corridor when they walked through the door.

It was easy to see who the significant others were, because they looked tamer and maybe a little uneasy, like him, at the unbridled show of affection. Two young men and a woman standing a little to the side who shared quiet and understanding glances. Sandor didn’t hope he’d share this calm complicity since they blinked in surprise at his apparition.

Too tall, too many tattoos and too much scarring he guessed. Couldn’t really blame them.

Sansa on the other hand, dropped her suitcase the moment she saw her siblings and ran toward them with a happy laugh, her long red hair flowing behind her. Sandor didn’t repress his affectionate smile at the scene, before quickly turning his attention back on the Starks he hadn’t met.

Eddard and Catelyn Stark, her parents, were easy to recognize. Older and calmer – even if they were still waving and smiling wide – than the rest, Eddard had the look of the North and Catelyn was like looking at an older Sansa. She had more severe lines on her face though whereas Sandor was sure that, once she’d be old enough to get them, Sansa’s wrinkles would only be a trace of her laughter and smiles along the years.

Arya was just as easy to notice. The only girl, yet looking as boyish as Sansa had described with short black hair and a pull-over proclaiming her love for the Direwolves, the national hockey team.

Robb, Bran and Rickon were next since they had red hair just like Sansa and their mother and were far apart in age enough that Sandor could guess who was who. He could have been confused between Bran and Robb since it seemed the younger of the two had had a growth spurt, but his wheeling chair was a dead give away.

There was also Jon, the only boy with black hair and a face long and serious like Eddard’s. Had Sansa not told him he was their cousin, Sandor would have bet he was his biological son.

Finally, Theon, who looked nothing like the others. Even if he hadn’t dyed his hair in white, his features were round where the Stark’s were sharp and pointed were the Stark’s smoothed. The adopted brother who had troubled everyone for a long time before coming back into the fold, he seemed perfectly content among his siblings.

Sandor had pretended that he had to be slow in order to drag the luggage to them while Sansa was greeting them all, but it was an excuse, both so he could observe them and so he’d delay the actual meeting as long as possible.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Sandor!” exclaimed Sansa, on of her arm still around Theon’s shoulder and the other doing its best to keep Rickon on her hip.

Her youngest brother was eight, and while Sansa was an athletic woman, it was a struggle to keep him there. From what Sandor had gathered though, he was still the baby of the family and everyone treated him as such.

Rickon tried to extirpate himself from his sister’s grasp the moment he saw Sandor and managed to do so in a few seconds. He then ran up to him with a wide smile.

“Cooooool!” Rickon exclaimed. “How did you get your scars?”

Sandor grimaced what he hope was a smile and glanced up at the rest of the family. He expected one of them to snap the young boy out of his reach, but they didn’t seem too afraid for the boy’s well-being. His mother did chastise him for his rudeness:

“Rickon! I’m sure Sandor has had a long trip and doesn’t want to answer questions like that!”

She made her way through he mass of children in front of her and grabbed Rickon’s hand.

“I am so sorry -” she began at Sandor’s intention, showing no hesitance at looking at him in the eyes.

“It’s fine.”

He wasn’t too sure what else to say. It was fine.

Sansa slipped back next to him and whispered in his ears:

“He’ll ask the question again and you can tell him it was a dragon if you want.”

The idea had merit, but before he could react, Sansa was already dragged away by Bran who really wanted her to say hi to Jojen.

Huh. Wasn’t too terrible after all, he had yet to receive a single judging glare from -

Sandor froze when he realized that the previously welcoming smiles had turned sharp and threatening the moment Sansa had been distracted.

“Can’t wait to get to know you,” said Arya in a short tone before taking Sansa’s suitcase out of his grasp.

Sansa’s father was studying him intently while her mother whispered something in his ear. Robb, Jon and Theon were looking him up and down with arms crossed on their chest. The only one who didn’t seem affected was Rickon who was still trying to get his attention.

Well. That hadn’t taken too long.


	3. To Winterfell

Sandor wasn’t one to talk much. It was different when it was just Sansa and him. For some reason, he always found himself talking a lot with her. He supposed his usual silence was why she didn’t notice how quiet he was in the car ride to Winterfell. She was so absorbed in the conversation with Robb’s wife, Jeyne, that she barely turned around. If she had, she would have realized how chilly it felt at the back of the car. Robb and Arya sat next to him. The car was large enough that it didn’t feel like he was pushed into the girl’s side, but Sandor could still feel the pressure of their gaze.

Thank the Stranger for his numerous poker nights with Bronn, Tormund and Beric. His face could only remain expressionless thanks to hours on end spent having to bare their annoying presence, otherwise he would have been glaring right back at the siblings. He didn’t want to worsen their opinion of him though. It was a bit desperate at this point, but he really hope Sansa wouldn’t dump him at the end of this family reunion, regardless of what they’d say about him.

Maybe he needed some form of plan. Try to stay at her side as often as he could. That was the only way he could see to avoid they start telling her how shitty her taste in man was while he was not in the same room. He couldn’t do that though, that would mean hog all of her attention for himself and he knew how much she had missed her family.

“Oh, look Sandor!” Sansa exclaimed, pointing somewhere out the window. “We’re almost there!”

He lowered his head to get a look and couldn’t contain a small uncharacteristic gasp. Winterfell.

The building was much more impressive than anything he could have imagined. He must have seen photos years ago, but nothing compared to the looming mass of heavy stones standing proud above the sprawling city that had developed around it through the ages.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is, Little Bird,” he nodded, the nickname escaping him before he could think twice about it.

He was too busy admiring the tall towers punctuating the encircling walls to care about Sansa’s siblings reaction.

* * *

Gendry was Arya’s boyfriend. He had taken another car to reach the entrance of Winterfell but had been waiting for them, buried in his scarf and woolen hat. As soon as they arrived, he came to help Sandor unload the car while Robb was helping his wife up the stairs.

“She always slips on the ice!” he had exclaimed before taking her hand.

Jeyne had protested that she would be just fine but he refused to leave her side. Sandor and Gendry didn’t need much more help anyway, even if Arya was being very insistent in pestering them that she could assist them too.

“Men!” she spat in direction of her sister. “Always have to show off!”

“We’re just trying to help -” protested Gendry.

“Pff, you’re lucky you have a great pow pow,” she huffed. “Don’t you think, Sansa?”

Sandor wasn’t sure what a pow pow was, but considering how red Sansa’s face had turned, she must have understood well enough.

“What the hell is a pow pow?” he heard Gendry muttering as he took out of the car’s trunk the last of their luggage.

“Slang for something else, no doubt. You tell me, you’ve been dating a girl from here longer than I have,” replied Sandor in a similar mutter.

He knew Arya and Gendry had met a long time ago; Sansa had told him that there had been bets on how long it would take them to date based only on the letters they received from the younger girl of the family. Arya was always traveling and had somehow roped the boy from King’s Landing into exploring the world with her, but they had only entered a relationship a little over a year ago.

From the way they interacted, Sandor could still have believed them to be stuck in the friendzone – at least until he had surprised Arya nuzzle him a kiss discreetly at the airport while none of her brothers looked.

“Pow pow is just how children call powdery snow,” Sansa waved their interrogation away, ignoring the evidence that led them to believe there was more behind that.

Arya took their distraction as an opportunity to grab one of the luggage and started dragging it behind her and up the stairs.

The thick layer of ice on the stairs didn’t seem to bother either sister, but Sandor struggled to remain on his two feet while hoisting up his baggage.

By the time he had finished climbing the five steps, the sisters had already been greeted by no less than seven different persons. The Starks were still as popular as ever and everyone seemed to know them. The same had happened at the airport and the occurrences of spontaneous greetings only appeared to increase as they got closer to the heart of Winterfell.

“We have to finish on foot since no car is allowed inside the walls,” had explained Sansa to him before they had arrived, “the paths were preserved just as they had been originally built and were never meant for modern transportation. Not to mention it would ruin the immersion.”

The immersion was all well and good, but it did make the task of getting inside the building all the harder.

“By the way, you haven’t told me how you’ve met Sandor, San,” asked Arya, ahead of them.

Sandor cringed. He didn’t like that story.

The wheels of the luggage he was dragging behind him trembled over the wet pavement. He had to be careful of not getting them caught between the stones, which prevented him from admiring the wonderful setting they were walking through. Hopfully he’d have more time for tourism later.

“Oh, well, hum. You remember Joffrey, don’t you?” Sansa began her story while Sandor’s attention while still taken by the path they walked.

Arya groaned audibly, and that was all the confirmation that was needed to know that yes, she knew the little bastard.

“Right. So, uh, we were at this party and Sandor was security. Joffrey was being, well… Himself, and Sandor helped me get out of his clutches.”

Sansa was always very generous in her recounting of he story. She always omitted that Sandor had spent most of that evening not lifting a finger to help her. He had been too preoccupied with keeping his job, and, to this very day, he was still ashamed to remember that he had thought he wouldn’t get anything out of helping her. So, he hadn’t done anything. At least until Joffrey’s attitude had been too much to bare and Sandor had decided to say goodbye to that night’s pay in order to help Sansa out.

“Oh, and then what happened?” Arya pressed for details.

“He drove me home.”

“And then what happened?”

“And that’s… That’s it. I’m embarrassed to say we didn’t see each other again for… How long was it -”

“That was in May of last year,” he helped her remember, tugging at the luggage.

One of the cases had been caught in a crevice that hadn’t been filled up by ice.

“Oh, thank you love! I was a fool and I forgot to get your phone number then,” she sent him blinding smile just as he raised his head to meet her eyes.

In truth, he had been the fool. He should have pressed his luck then. But he hadn’t had the courage – but maybe it had been for the best. The state of distress Sansa had been in at the time would have made it wrong on so many levels… He hadn’t wanted to take advantage. Not that Harrold, the guy Sansa had dated right after Joffrey, had cared much for that.

“You didn’t have a reason to,” he reassured her.

“Well… I wanted it, but I was too shy.”

She had slowed down to walk next to him and gave him a peck on the cheek – his scared cheek, because she never seemed to put much importance on where it was.

Sandor didn’t notice the attentive eyes of Arya as they followed him for the rest of their short walk past the walls of Winterfell.


	4. A Little Strategy

Winterfell was breathtaking on many, many levels. And with each level came the certitude that Sandor didn’t measure up.

What kind of family owned an entire castle? Sure, they let the staff live there for free in order to maintain the whole place so they avoided some of the dispenses, and most of the areas were open to tourists, but it was still too much to take in.

The tortuous corridors sent him back in time when there were knights, ladies and several kings fighting over the Iron Throne. Tapestries that depicted epic doings of honorable ancestors and mighty heroes – the Long Night, the Coming of Dragons, the Second Coming of Dragons the children of the forest and other stories he had barely heard of.

All the grandiose of the place was grounded in the present by the Sevenmas decorations though. It helped him think that the Starks were just like any other family when he saw the decorative armors wearing twinkling lights like a scarf, or when the Great Hall where they still occasionally dined in was mostly occupied by a very tall tree which bore seven electric candles in various colors. Tasteful cheap, Sansa had called it.

Sansa knew the place like the back of her hand. Every single one of the siblings knew how to give a tour, which meant that he had had his own as soon as they had settled and rested to recuperate from the trip.

Sansa was always beautiful, but she was especially gorgeous as her eyes sparkled with excitation and she recounted everything she knew about the place – which was a whole lot. Each sibling had their own area of expertise, and Sansa was politics. Didn’t surprise him too much considering she was getting a master in communication and political science, but what did surprise him was how much she managed to detail every political background for the decisions taken in the building of some of the rooms, or the lay out of buildings, or even some of the specific pieces of decorations like the coats of arms sculpted in the walls.

“And this room had served multiple purposes over the years, but -”

She was interrupted by the chiming of her phone.

“Oh – it’s my mother,” she checked the content of the message rapidly.

Of course they had to send each other text messages while in the same building. It would take hours to find each other in this labyrinth.

Sandor took advantage of the pause to take a look out the window. From here, he could see the main entrance they had passed at their arrival. It stood tall and dwarfed everything else in the courtyard. A few of Sansa’s siblings were greeting people he didn’t know but shared a family resemblance.

“She wants help with planning the dinner with the cooks,” Sansa declared after finishing her text.

“You have cooks?”

“Well, yeah, we have to feed the staff somehow. But we’ll be the ones cooking for the Sevenmas dinner since everyone will be going home. Mother wants our opinion on the dishes, there’s a tasting right now.”

“A tasting? Isn’t that the sort of things reserved to weddings and big ceremonies?”

He pushed himself away from the window and came back to her.

“We are receiving a lot of people on the week-end before – cousins from the Vale, from Riverun, from beyond the Wall -”

“I think I got the picture,” he interrupted before she listed off all of her relatives and made him rethink his decision to come – even more than he already was.

He put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed her arms distractedly.

“Do we really have to stay for that?”

“I’m afraid so,” she giggled. “But if you’re worried you’ll be center of attention, then don’t. Everyone will be much too busy discussing the scandalous marriage of aunt Lysa and Petyr. Everyone knows he’s still in love with my mother and is only marrying my aunt for money and status.”

“Oh, then all my worries are fading away,” he said in a flat voice.

They really were not. He could think of someone else that could easily be accused of entering a relationship for status. Himself. Not that he gave a rat’s ass about it, but he knew how gossip worked...

“Come on, let’s join my mother, the kitchen is a ten minutes walk away from here!” she took his hands to drag him there.

“I- uh- no, you’ll go do the – the tasting, I’m going to stay here.”

He hated to see her disappointed, but he didn’t think he was ready to face the matriarch just yet. The last time she had briefly seen him, she had somehow managed to get him in a horrid holiday jumper – the kind that every Stark was wearing since they had stepped back into their ancestral home.

“You know my luck around the kitchen,” he joked to try and alleviate the tension.

Sansa had forbidden him from getting close to any kitchen appliance – even in his own apartment – after he had burned a pot of boiling water. The burning had occurred before he even put the pasta in. Needless to say, he had seen the sense in her demands.

His meager joke managed to get a small laugh out of her, and she let go of his hands, then started to walk backward towards the thick reinforced door.

“Will you be all right making your way back to our room?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll hear my screams.”

Her laugh was cut off by the sound of the heavy door closing on her.

He felt suddenly very alone in this very big room. He stared at the walls, made out of very large stones that seemed to judge him in their venerability. Everything to make him feel small, something that he definitely wasn’t.

He thought Sansa had forgotten something when the door opened again, but instead, it was a different redhead that came in.

“What are you doing here all alone?” asked Robb, closing behind him.

“Just admiring this...” Sandor threw a glance at the table in the middle of the room.

Aside from the tapestries and intricate sculpted chairs, there wasn’t much to see here, but he wasn’t sure how to call the thing. That wasn’t a table you ate at, that was for sure.

“… The map,” he finally finished, even though the thing was more like a miniature of Winterfell and its surroundings as it was centuries ago.

He observed the little figurines displayed. From the look of them, it seemed related to the Battle for the Dawn, but he wasn’t confident in it. He hadn’t opened a history books in decades, and the last time was when he was forced to for school.

“Amateur of battle strategy?” asked Robb.

Sandor made a noncommittal sound. He wasn’t sure how to talk to the other man. They didn’t know each other. The only link between the two was that Sandor was dating his sister. Aside from that, they were stranger.

It didn’t deter Robb, who launched himself in an extensive explanation of how the battle took place, moving important pieces.

“Wait,” interjected Sandor at one point.

He was trying to follow, he really was, but that bit didn’t make sense.

“Why would they send out horses to lead that wave of attack while they were holding a siege? Didn’t you just say they were outnumbered? Wouldn’t that expose themselves to being isolate from the bulk of their forces?”

Robb’s eyes glinted, and Sandor was reminded of Sansa’s own blue gaze when she shared a joke with him. It was strange to see such a resemblance when the most that he had seen of her siblings so far was in pictures, but now it was striking.

“You are correct. That’s why they didn’t – I was just checking if you were paying attention.”

His light tone had allowed Sandor to relax just a bit, and so he replied:

“You could probably tell me anything and I’d believe you – I don’t know much about battle strategy. Now if we’re talking hand-to-hand combat or weapons -”

The eager gleam that replaced Robb’s mischievous expression was all Sandor needed as warning for the long conversation that his declaration launched.


	5. A Helping Hand

Sandor was wandering around the corridors, trying to find his way back to somewhere familiar, when he gave up and decided he might as well get outside in the cold and orient himself from there.

Sansa had only left a couple of minutes before him to join her family for lunch, and he had stayed behind in their room in order to finish drying his hair. Sansa had warned him against leaving wet and getting a cold head, and so he had dutifully rubbed his head with a warm towel. Not enough it seemed as a few drops of water still dripped down his neck, but he had more important worries as of now.

Where in the seven hells was the Great Hall? That should have been much easier to find!

He finally got out of the building and into the courtyard. To his surprise, Bran was there, and he looked at him as if he was expecting him there.

“Hi,” he greeted the teenager.

They hadn’t seen each other since the day before; Bran had gone out in town with Jojen that morning. Sansa hadn’t been able to tell him what the boys were doing – or even to confirm if they were a couple or friends. ‘ _They’re doing their own thing_ ’ was all he had been able to gather – a thing that wasn’t labeled. Didn’t explained what Bran had been doing outside the walls of Winterfell or why he seemed to have been waiting for Sandor here.

“Hi,” Bran greeted back.

He nodded to the ramp that had been installed next to the stairs, and asked:

“Would you help me to get up there?”

Sandor frowned at him. The boy hadn’t seemed to have any trouble doing so himself the day before.

“Sure,” he said nonetheless. “If you need my help...”

He pushed Bran’s wheelchair up the ramp with little effort, even as a shiver ran down his spine. His blood ran hot, but it was so much colder out here than what he was used to.

“You’re not just asking me to test me, are you?” he still asked as they reached the end of the ramp.

“Pardon me?”

“I thought you might need help because your wheels are freezing cold and you wouldn’t want to grab them, but you have gloves,” Sandor pointed out. “So I’m just wondering why you’d need my help all the sudden.”

Bran gave him a piercing gaze that should have made him uncomfortable, but merely felt like Sandor had given an answer to his question, and they joined the others inside the Great Hall.


	6. A Very Large Family Dinner

Sandor had managed to escape the tasting in the kitchen, but no amount of negotiating with Sansa had managed to convince her that they could skip over the big family dinner that preceded the smaller reception that would take place on the actual day of Sevenmas. He had been sure his invitation to stay in bed with him all day could have held some weight – after all, if anything, she must have stayed with him for his body – but Sansa was determined to show him off to _all_ of her relatives.

He felt like everyone was staring – which was only half-way true. As Sansa had predicted, a lot of the staring occurring was sent in her aunt Lysa and Petyr’s direction. The fact that the man himself was more focused on his sister-in-law, Catelyn, and his niece, probably didn’t help the stares from being the tiniest bit judgmental. Sandor himself was tempted to glare but contained his animosity as best as he could.

If Petyr made another attempt at talking to Sansa alone though, Sandor would probably lose his temper. Even something as simple as the greeting he had given her earlier was loaded with meaning. Thankfully, she was well surrounded.

“We stopped inviting him after he got weird with Sansa a few years ago,” explained Arya in a frustrated mutter while sipping from her flute.

The thing was held so tightly in her fist that he thought she would break it. Before the meal took place, all the people present mingled while sharing light wine and non-alcoholic juice for the youngest. Arya and Sandor had just happened to stop by the chimney at the same time, both of them keeping an eye on both Sansa and Petyr who were at opposite sides of the room. His constant glances in her direction kept them on their guard though.

“He wouldn’t have been there, but since he’s married to aunt Lysa now,” Arya continued, putting down her flute on the mantel of the chimney, “Mother couldn’t leave him out of the invitation. Gods know what she finds in him,” she shook her head at her aunt who had her hands clutching her husband’s arm while she gazed at him adoringly.

“Mysterious are the ways of the heart,” Sandor shrugged, looking back at Sansa who sent him one of her beaming smiles.

As mysterious as Sansa still coming back to him every five minutes when she had so many other people to reconnect with.

“Everyone!” a voice interrupted Sandor’s musings.

Heads turned in Robb’s direction. He was standing on the deck at one end of the Great Hall, holding his flute above his head. It took a surprisingly short time for everyone to quiet down and listen to him. His presence and voice had been enough to command the room – regardless of his jumper boasting a red-nosed, big-toothed squirrel. At his side, a flute-less Jeyne smiled nervously.

“This will only take a little bit of your time; I wanted to share the recent news with everyone but then we’ll move on to the food!”

There was a happy sound raising from the audience, before they returned to an attentive silence.

“Jeyne and I are expecting!”

There were cheers and congratulations raising as soon as he finished his sentence. The crowd began clapping, but it didn’t completely drown out the mutterings of an old man in a corner of the room. Arya caught Sandor’s curious glance.

“… Don’t pay attention to old Frey,” she said before running to her father’s side to whisper something in his ear.

That looked like a complicated family business Sandor didn’t want to mingle in. Well, Robb and Jeyne seemed happy enough, that was what really mattered, he thought as he joined in the clapping.

The image of a similar declaration, staring another couple as the main cast for the scene imposed itself in his mind. He blinked away the image of Sansa round with child. Now wasn’t the best time to think about this – and he already knew Sansa would want to finish her studies before even considering… With him or anyone else...

“Children are always good news.”

Sandor almost jumped out of his skin at hearing Catelyn’s voice behind him. With all the clapping and congratulating, he hadn’t noticed her sneaking behind him.

She gave him a pointed look.

“Do you want children?”

The direct question took him so much by surprise that he found himself staring wordlessly at her.

“I’m not sure what Sansa’s opinion on it is anymore,” Catelyn continued as he struggled to find an answer for her. “In the past I would have said yes, but she’s changed a lot recently.”

The glance she threw him was meaningful. Sansa had changed her taste in men, as the photos of her exes he had seen could attest. Between pretty boy Joffrey and gangly Harrold, Sansa’s type was the opposite of what Sandor looked like with his bulky shape, beard and tattoos. It was like comparing a knight and a wildling.

“So, have you and Sansa talked about it?”

“… I don’t think we should be having this conversation if Sansa is not comfortable discussing this matter with you.”

It was Catelyn’s turn to blink in surprise for a moment. Thankfully, before any more questioning could happen on her part, Robb put an end to the numerous congratulations he and his wife were receiving so that they could move on to the dinner.

Sandor sat next to Sansa with relief, far enough from Catelyn that he wouldn’t have to face her inquisitive eyes anymore.


	7. Pow Pow

The dinner hadn’t gone as terrible as Sandor had expected. Robb’s news had diverted most of the attention to him – especially since there was some conflict with a previous engagement he supposedly had had with the ‘Old Frey’s’ daughter that Arya had briefly mentioned, which added a dose of scandal to the good news. When the attention wasn’t on Sansa’s older brother, it had been on Petyr. No one cared about Sansa’s new boyfriend after that, even if he looked too old or ferocious for her.

The food had been excellent and Sandor had enjoyed the evening spent sitting next to Sansa while she recounted all the stories about the people around them. The Starks had a very large family. He didn’t think he had heard all the stories there were to be heard by the end of the dinner. Sansa had assured him that they’d have some left for next year and his stomach had made a weird jump of joyful anticipation at the thought.

Really, the only negative point about the evening had been when Theon, a little drunk, had talked to Sandor while Sansa was away. His comments were not of… Brotherly nature. It had taken a lot of self-control for Sandor to avoid punching the white-haired douche in the face, and he had simply but firmly put him back in his place.

Now he was conflicted on whether he ought to tell Sansa or not.

Fresh snow had fallen during the night, which for Sansa meant they absolutely _had_ to go out and admire it. Sandor only understood once they were in the Godswood. As far as he was concerned, fresh snow meant radio forecast to warn cars and accidents in the streets and a new layer of mud on the streets, but he had never seen _real_ fresh snow.

Since Winterfell didn’t allow any vehicle inside its walls and they were the first to wake up after the late dinner from the previous day, the snow was a perfect sheet of crisp white cold on the ground. The only trace of something having interacted with it in any way was the imprints of paws of a cat which quickly stopped as it must have jumped out of it soon after realizing how its pads were freezing.

The sun was lazily rising and its light started to reflect on the walls and bounced back inside the courtyard to reach the snow. It was beautiful.

Sansa grabbed his hand and pulled him with her. Sandor was a bit hesitant at first – damaging the perfect layer by putting his large feet and resting all of his heavy weight on it felt a little like an insult of the perfect scene before him – but eventually followed her.

“Isn’t the North beautiful?”

“It is,” he said, looking at how her eyes sparkled with wonder.

Her cheeks and nose were reddened by the cold and he didn’t resist the urge to readjust her hat to cover the point of her ears.

“It makes me wonder why you left in the first place. Or why any of you would.”

“Oh, to study of course. Then while I was abroad I realized that there was one thing that Winterfell couldn’t offer me. Anonymity. I love this place and the people here but… Sometimes I just want to stroll down a lane and not be greeted by fifty different people before I get back home.”

Sandor nodded. He had noticed how much the Starks were appreciated and how frequently that love manifested itself.

“But I don’t think I’ll spent all of my life in the South you know,” she said quietly.

Sandor nodded. He understood full well how she could miss her home when it was so welcoming. He wondered if she’d let him follow her – in the event that they were still together whenever she decided to come back. The comment she had made the night before, about him still hearing stories about her family the following year, gave him hope that she wanted this as much as he did.

“Let’s not worry about that now though,” she suggested in a lighter tone, taking a step closer and getting on the tip of her toes. “While we’re in this pow pow, it reminds me that yours really measures up to Gendry’s...”

“I’m still waiting on an explanation of what that’s supposed to mean,” he replied in a similar tone, lowering his head closer to hers.

Before he had the time to kiss her or she could explain her innuendos though, something cold, wet and supple hit the side of their heads and Sansa let out a surprised scream while he growled.

“SNOW FIGHT!” yelled their assailant.

Rickon was already piling up on snow balls to throw them.

“Retreat, we have to retreat!” exclaimed Sansa with a laugh.

Sandor followed her before they barricaded themselves behind a panel of wood that was made heavier by the snow piled up on it. It was supposed to cover a well, but even without the panel the hole was still covered by metal bars and so they did not hesitate. Sandor had to flip it over, which made the snow gathered on it fall and gave them a much higher pile of snow to make snow balls from. By the time they had formed their first projectiles, Rickon was joined by one of his older brothers. Jon seemed to have the strategic mind that Rickon’s wild energy needed, because soon they didn’t have any way out of their barricade.

“I’m going to fan out to the right,” he told Sansa, “to attract their attention so you can sneak off -”

“No, wait! I have a better idea!”

Sandor threw a snow ball over their barricade and hoped it had landed somewhere near their opponent.

“What is it, Little Bird?”

“We’re going to use this,” she knocked on the wood. “Keep firing at them!”

Sandor did as she asked, and tried to keep a steady rhythm of attacks on their base while she gathered more snow to make a ball of a very respectable size.

“All right,” she told him while holding the large snow sphere close to her chest, “Now we need to get closer, using this as a shield.”

He understood perfectly what was her plan now. Hidden behind the panel, they’d keep the secret weapon Sansa had just made out of their sight and her siblings would be in for a surprise.

He hoisted up the shield without as much as a grunt, and started advancing. The layer of snow under them was as high as their ankles, so hew was careful not to trip, walking carefully. He had to stay hunch so his body would be fully covered by their protection, which made their progression slow. Snow exploded on the barrier as Jon and Rickon kept sending them snow balls, but it was ineffective against their shield.

Finally, they were close enough and Sandor lowered the panel so Sansa could throw their ultimate weapon at them.

The giant snow ball exploded on Jon’s head and spread around him and onto Rickon who hollered in laughter.

“Rickon, I think we lost,” admitted Jon while wiping the snow out of his face to reveal a very amused smile.


	8. They Tell Me

The last of the extended family had been sent away and the true evening of Sevenmas had come. Unfortunately it didn’t mean that Sandor was fully relaxed yet as they had still to see if the gifts they had picked would be well-received. Sansa had insisted it would be in both their names and that his input was to be taken seriously when they had purchased them, but he worried that if they disappointed, the gifts would just make his relationship with the other members of her family worse.

They weren’t bad. Far from it. They loved Sansa, that much was evident. Always smiling at her, complimenting her, trying to learn more about what she had done while she was away… A perfect family, one could say. It made him long for something he had never had.

Sandor had learned more about each of them too. Her parents still took care of the castle and were waiting to see which of their kid would be the most inclined to follow in suit. The eldest, Robb, seemed more likely, especially since he wanted to settle back in the North with his wife for their kid.

Theon was a bit of a wild one, even though he had an apparently steady girlfriend since recently – although it always sounded like ‘a girlfriend from beyond the Wall’ whenever he talked about it. The kind that lives in blizzards and is hard to reach with the phone, so you tell your friends about her but never show proof of her existence. Sandor still wasn’t over how he had talked about Sansa that one time.

Jon was still living in the North but rarely saw his parents since he worked as a firefighter – a name which was ironic as, from what Sandor gathered, he spent most of his time dealing with problems caused by the ice.

Arya was always traveling abroad and knew three different combat styles at least, which made her the easiest to talk with, along with Robb. Sandor had enjoyed several conversation with her where they shared knowledge or stories about their fighting – Sandor for his job, Arya for pleasure.

Bran was a spiritual boy. He studied philosophy with Joren. Sandor still wasn’t sure whether they were a couple, but they seemed very close and whatever their relationship status was, his whole family seemed to fully approve.

Rickon was so full of energy Sandor sometimes wondered if he didn’t sap all of the energy out of those surrounding him to recycle it.

Catelyn was a loving mother, even if she seemed overbearing at times.

All of them were friendly with everyone, yet Sandor always felt like he was being tested in some capacity. After every interactions with them, he could feel the weight of their eyes asserting him.

Yet he had yet to hear Sansa tell him that any of them had warned her against him.

Eddard – or rather, as he had insisted, Ned – was the only one Sandor hadn’t had the opportunity to spend any one on one time. He wasn’t in any hurry to but, as luck would have it, he eventually met the man alone.

Sandor merely intended to get some fresh air before facing the Starks inside the room warmed by the chimney fire. Since they were only close family and significant others (which still amounted to at least twelve people), they had moved from the Great Hall to a smaller room that gave a beautiful view of the Godswood. Sandor was getting a better view of the snow covered trees when he realized he wasn’t the only one standing on the balcony.

“How do you find Winterfell?” asked Ned before taking a sip of warm wine.

“Breathtaking,” Sandor said sincerely.

The two men settled into silence for a bit. Sandor was used to feeling taller and stronger than anyone in the room. That feeling had greatly reduced since arriving at the grand Winterfell, and it was weaker than ever next to the presence of the honorable man standing next to him. In the dim light of the moon, his stance was only made more impressive. For a moment, it seemed all of his ancestors were standing behind him and helped him hold his head high.

Then, Ned turned towards Sandor and smiled, and he became a taciturn but simple man with a serious but honest face again, a man among others.

“I must say, I expected I’d have to prepare the shovel talk, but I’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”

“You have?”

It was hard for Sandor to hide his surprise. Who would have…?

“Arya tells me you don’t push Sansa past what she’s comfortable. Robb tells me you’re a great listener. Bran tells me you’re observant and...”

Ned grimaced.

“Well, sometimes he’s so serious I forget he’s still a teenager, but he tells me you’re ‘not afraid to call him out on his bullshit’, even if you’re not rude about it, somehow. Theon tells me you won’t tolerate Sansa being insulted but you still keep your temper.”

Sandor should have known Theon was testing him like the rest of them. It relieved him knowing he no longer needed to debate whether to tell Sansa about her adopted brother’s inappropriate comments on her.

Frankly Sandor wasn’t sure how he had kept his temper in check. It had been tamer since he had started to date Sansa, but he had been really tempted to punch Theon in the face.

“Jon tells me you work well with Sansa. Rickon seems to have nothing but admiration for you, and Catelyn tells me you don’t spill Sansa’s secret, even to gain her approval.”

“So they really were all testing me.”

“You’ve noticed? I suppose we weren’t all too subtle. The boyfriend Sansa brought home previous years...”

Ned made a displeased face.

“Well, the less said about that, the better. But we wanted to make sure she wasn’t settling for someone that was only close to acceptable again. She’s been demanding less and less from every relationship, including things as essential as respect or love.”

“Glad to know I’m more than acceptable,” Sandor deadpanned.

“Hmm. I suppose I forgot to tell you what the most important person in this matter told me.”

Ned shifted his eyes from the Godswood to Sandor to look straight at his face.

“Sansa tells me you’re gentle, brave and strong. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for my daughter.”

Sandor nodded, his throat suddenly tight. The man was conveying something deeper than words; acceptance. Welcome.

“We should go back inside. Rickon is about to open his gifts.”

Sandor nodded, happy to feel the heavy atmosphere shift to something lighter. He cleared his throat.

“So early? Shouldn’t we wait until tomorrow?”

“Oh, we will, but Rickon is still the baby of the family, never mind what I tell my wife. He gets special treatment.”

Seeing the laughing face of ‘baby’ Rickon when he unpacked his gifts, it was hard to protest. Sandor wasn’t in a hurry to open his own gifts though. He put an arm around Sansa’s shoulder to pull her just a little bit closer.

He already had all that he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, and that was the last chapter! I hope you liked it, and have great holidays everyone! And a happy New Year!
> 
> (psst, you can also find me @mad-j-j on tumblr!)


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